


The Heart of Those Machines You Hate

by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k8andrewz/pseuds/Kate%20Andrews
Summary: "Take what you need."





	The Heart of Those Machines You Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick little post-Last Jedi snippet I wrote for the prompt Kylo/Rey first kiss, thanks to Lizzen for the prompt.
> 
> Title taken from 'For Each of You' by Audre Lorde

Something not-there keeps touching his lips, feather-light but unmistakably her, so he opens their connection.

Instead of a door, he finds a yielding haze and behind that the throne room, blood red and empty save for the briny, ankle deep water on the floor and in the center, a wide white bed. She's on it. With someone.

The wave of rage that washes through him should bring down the walls but this is her mind, her dream, so it only makes the room quake. She and the man sit up abruptly and he sees that in her arms is *him*. He bats away the simulacrum with a single vicious thought and stalks across the room until he's towering over her, then kneeling over her, then on his hands and knees over her, caging her to the sheets. Her lips are pink from that thing's kisses.

Slender fingers of her Force close around his neck, and whether it's a warning or an invitation he couldn't say. He doesn't think she could either.

"I thought you didn't want me," he growls.

She replies, "I didn't. I don't." The grip on his throat tightens but she is not pushing him away.

With a delicacy born of a lifetime's training he skims the hairs on back of her neck, traces the shell of her ear as a lover might, then finally drags a ghosting touch across her swollen mouth, all without lifting his hands from the bed. He parts her lips, teases the tip of her tongue, the roof of her mouth, and he feels the heat of her, the pulse of her blood, of her power against his own. "Have me," he whispers. "Take what you need."

"I don't," she says, squeezing his throat tight enough to stop the air. Then her power is dragging him down, crushing his lips to hers for a violent kiss that's sweeter than any he's ever known. For one second he feels her over every inch of his body and instinctively reaches back to do the same. She bites his lip, hard, then he is back, panting and sitting at his desk, alone.

He touches his mouth and his fingers come away stained with blood.


End file.
